Wired

"Hey, a girl can dream, right?" she said playfully. "I mean, don't you have some beautiful woman you dream about?"

Dalton smiled at her then said, "I didn't until...today."

Brooke looked to make sure he was teasing them gave him a playful shove.

"Listen to you!" she said just as the announcer yelled, "Touchdown! Touchdown Patriots!"

"And that's a wrap, folks!" Brooke said when the game ended.

"And you know what that means, right?" she said to Bo.

"Ah, Momma! Do I have to go to bed? Can't I have just ten more minutes? Please?"

"Sorry. The game's over and it's bed time. Tell Dalton goodnight, and hit the hay. I'll be right there to tuck you in."

"Momma!" he said in that complaining voice.

"Oh. So...we don't do that anymore, either?" she asked.

"Not when Dalton's here," he said. "I'm almost 11 years old."

"Ah. Right. Okay. Well, go brush your teeth and turn out the light then."

Bo smiled and said, "Thanks, Momma."

"Are you too big to give me a hug and a kiss, too?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

He looked at Dalton who said, "I still hug and kiss my momma every time I see her."

That's all the boy needed. He put his arms around his mother then let her kiss him on the cheek.

"I love you, Bo-Bo," she said before realizing that would embarrass him, too.

Before he could complain she said, "Um...Bo."

He turned to Dalton and said, "Night, Dalton."

He mussed the boy's hair up and told him goodnight.

"It is so cool having you live next door!" Bo told him.

"Yeah, I like havin' you for a neighbor, too, big man."

Dalton could tell Bo wanted to hug him, but was a little too embarrassed to it, so he grabbed the boy and pulled him in tight.

"Let me tell you a little secret, okay?"

"Sure," Bo replied.

"Mothers were put on earth to take care of us...."

He looked at Brooke, smiled, then finished his sentence.

"And to embarrass us. The trick is to stop letting it bother you, because, trust me, that ain't never gonna stop."

He saw Brooke give him a disapproving look, and it took him a second to get it.

"I mean, that isn't ever going to stop."

Brooke smiled and Dalton told Bo to listen to his mom and go brush his teeth.

"I will!" he promised before hugging his mom again.

As he left the room Dalton said, "I should be goin', too. I've overstayed my welcome."

"Hold on. I want to talk to you, okay?" she said with a very happy smile. "I just want to not tuck in my son."

"Oh, right," Dalton said, understanding the psychology.

She came back a few minutes later then said, "I uh, I wanted to really thank you for today. For everything. For me and for my son."

Dalton only smiled so Brooke said, "You made me feel like someone really cares about me, and it's been a long time since I felt that way. But even more importantly, you made my son feel that way. So thank you, Dalton."

He'd never been so confused before about whether or not a girl was flirting with him. It only got worse when she moved closer and kissed him on the cheek.

Dalton took that as strong evidence she was flirting, and as she pulled away, he put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned down and kissed her.

When he did, her eyes opened wide in shock, and she pushed him away immediately.

"Dalton? What the hell are you doing? What are you even thinking?"

"I'm sorry. I...I thought...when you kissed me I assumed...."

"I was being friendly, Dalton! For heaven's sake, you're...you're a boy!"

She stood there staring at him then said, "You need to go home. Now!"

Now thoroughly embarrassed and deeply hurt by being called a 'boy', even though it was true in some sense where Brooke was concerned, all he could do was apologize again.

"I'll let myself out," he said quietly as Brooke stood there still just staring at him.

He did let himself out and stepped a few feet to his left then turned and walked inside his place.

"Talk about crashin' and burnin'," he said very quietly to himself.

The silence from both sides was deafening as he sat down on the sofa and stared at the wall.

"So much for patchin' things up with the neighbors," he told himself as he wondered how he might be able to avoid ever having to look at her again. He knew that was impossible, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't be speaking again—at least not on friendly terms.

It was well after midnight when he finally laid down. Even then he couldn't sleep. He kept asking himself how he could have done anything so foolish and yes...childish.

He beat himself up for another hour or so before exhaustion forced sleep to come and give him a few hours of relief from his self-inflicted wounds.

Brooke lay in bed also beating herself up. Again, she knew she'd overreacted. All she needed to say was that she didn't think of Dalton like that. She could have gotten the same message across without sounding like some kind of psycho...bitch...yet again. And after the way he so graciously handled the first incident, she wouldn't blame him if he never forgave her for the second.

No one was more surprised to see her son early that Sunday morning than Samantha Burke. She'd not only had Bart Clemons over for dinner, she'd had him for dessert. He'd offered to leave after the deed was done, but Samantha assured him Dalton wouldn't stop by until at least 10 am and maybe not until later in the afternoon.

So when she heard the front door open at 7 am, she sat bolt upright in bed.

"Bart? Dalton's home!" she said as she shook the man who was ten years her senior.

"What? What do you mean?" he said as he nearly jumped out of bed.

He started pulling on clothes as Samatha grabbed a robe and went out to stall her son. She knew he wouldn't walk into the bedroom, but she knew he'd seen Bart's car outside.

She tied the robe off, smoothed her hair, put on her best smile, and walked out of the bedroom.

Dalton was in the kitchen pouring cereal into a bowl, his back turned to her.

"Well, hello there, Mr. Early Bird!" she said cheerfully.

"Hey, Momma," he said as he poured some milk on top.

"I don't have any skim," she said, knowing that's all he drank.

"Two percent is fine," he said quietly.

"Honey. I...I need to tell you something."

"I know who's here, Momma, and it's fine by me," he told her without turning around.

"I...I just didn't want you to see him...you know...."

Dalton picked up his bowl and turned around.

"I know where he slept last night, too, and it really is fine."

"So...you're not mad at me?" she asked hopefully. "Or...disappointed in me?"

He set the bowl down and walked over to give her a hug.

"You're my mother. And although I do not want to talk about it, I know my momma has the same needs as every other woman. And I know you didn't expect me home this early."

He pulled away then said, "You got nothin' to feel bad about, Momma."

"You are so grown up," she told him as she put a hand on his face.

"I know someone who'd disagree with you," he said as he sat down before shoving a first huge spoonful into his mouth.

"Is something wrong, honey?" she asked.

Both of them heard the rather loud, 'ahem' as Bart walked into the kitchen.

"Mornin', sir," Dalton said as he moved the cereal to the side of his mouth.

"Um...good morning, Dalton," he said with some reservation. "I uh, I was just seeing if I could fix a wiring problem at the back of the house, and...."

"He knows," Samantha said.

"Oh," was all Bart said in response.

"I uh...I should probably be goin'," Bart said.

"No. Don't leave," Dalton said. "Have a cup of coffee."

He remembered who he was talking to and said, "If you'd like—sir."

"Well, that's right kind of you, son," he said. "You sure you don't mind?"

"My momma obviously likes you, and as long as you're treatin' her all right, then I don't mind at all."

Samantha went to make a pot while Bart said, "You can bet your bottom dollar I'll treat your mother very well."

"Then it's all good, right?" Dalton said, trying to force a smile.

Once the coffee was going, Samantha sat down next to Bart who was sitting across from Dalton.

"So what brings you home so early, sweetie?" his mom asked.

"Oh. Well, I guess I'm tryin' to avoid my new neighbor."

"Is she still upset about the noise?"

"No, ma'am. She forgave me for that."

"Then what is it? I know you well enough to know you wouldn't say or do anything to upset anyone, so I can't imagine why she'd be upset with you."

"I really should be gettin' home," Bart said, sensing he was the reason they couldn't talk.

"It's okay, Mr. Clemons," Dalton told him.

"If you need to talk, I'll be happy to leave," he said immediately.

"It's just a little embarrassing. That's all," Dalton said before taking another oversized bite.

"Well, I won't keep botherin' you to tell me," his mom said. "But if I can help, just let me know, okay?"

Dalton swallowed the food then said, "I uh...I kinda kissed her."

Samantha's eyes got very big as she turned to Bart who just shrugged his shoulders.

"You what?" she asked.

"I kissed her," he repeated.

Dalton explained how the day went from meeting her outside to returning the U-Haul to dinner, the football game, and...the kiss on the cheek.

"So now I'm gonna have to try and avoid her for the rest of my life," he said before taking another massive spoonful.

"Maybe you just surprised her, honey. Yes, she's a grown woman with a child, but I'm sure she's not...angry."

"Oh, she's angry, Momma. Trust me. The way she looked at me when she told me to go home said it all. Oh, and telling me I'm just a boy was an added bonus."

"So if you see overtime requests from me every day, Mr. Clemons, you'll know why."

"I'll sign off on every one of them 'til this blows over," the older man told him.

"Just tell her you're sorry, baby," Samantha suggested.

"That ain't gonna cut it, Momma. I really blew it this time."

Samantha looked at Bart who said, "Sorry. I got nothin'."

"This, too, shall pass," his mother said with a firm nod. "Nothin' lasts forever, right?"

"You didn't see how she looked at me," Dalton told her.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Other than the overtime?" Bart inquired.

"You don't have a spare TV lying around, do you?" Dalton said with a kind of wry smile.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Bart told him. "It's pretty near brand new, too. I'll bring it over later this afternoon."

"Oh, no, sir. I was just kiddin' around. I'll go pick one up as soon as my first check comes in."

"Well, you could pay me back for it," Bart told him.

"I'm already in hock to my momma for the security deposit."

"So pay me $5 a payday for as long as it takes. It's just sittin' around collecting dust. My wife was the only person who ever watched it, and well, I'm a single man now."

He smiled at Samantha who gave him a very quick, coy look before turning away.

"Well, if you'll let me pay it off that slow...sure. That'd be great."

"All right! I'll swing by around 3 o'clock if that works for you."

"What time is supper today, Momma?"

"Five o'clock. Same as every Sunday," she told him. "And if it's okay, would you mind if...."

"Not at all. Bart's welcome here anytime, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well, thank you, Dalton, and that kind of attitude tells me you're no boy."

"Can you talk to my neighbor?" he asked rhetorically.

Brooke wasn't home when Bart dropped by, and so far, Dalton had avoided her all day. They got the TV up and running in minutes, and Dalton now had a 60" flatscreen on the wall in his living room. He thanked the older man sincerely, and Bart told him something he'd been wanting to say.

"I really like your momma, son. I mean, I really like her."

"Well, it seems like she really likes you, too, sir," Dalton told him.

"And if we're gonna be seein' each other socially, maybe you could call me Bart?"

"Oh, wow. I'm not too sure about that," Dalton said.

"Maybe just around the house whenever we're there together?"

"It'll take some gettin' used to, but I can agree to try," Dalton told him.

Bart smiled, stuck out his hand, and said, "That's all I can ask for."

Brooke spent her Sunday with the only real friend she had in Union. Casey Connor graduated with Brooke, and was the only person she'd stayed in touch with over the years. She was also a single mom with a son who was a two years younger than Bo who looked up the older boy.

When she left the house around 8 am, she knew Dalton was gone because she'd heard him leave, and when he did, she got up and decided to spend the day out of the house herself.

She and Casey talked and caught up on years gone by while the boys played what else...football...outside.

"So has anyone moved into the other unit?" Casey asked when Brooke mentioned her new place.

"Oh. Um...yes. A younger guy who just got his electrician's license is renting it out."

"Is he cute?" Casey asked immediately.

"He's definitely cute," Brooke said. "Maybe even gorgeous."

"Ooh! Tell me about him. What does he look like? What does he enjoy doing. Oh, and how young is 'younger'?"

Brooke wanted to laugh but couldn't, and Casey sensed something was going on and finally coaxed it out of her friend.

"So let me get this straight," Casey said after listening to Brooke tell her every little detail of her interactions with her handsome young neighbor.

"He's hot like a rock star, his body is hard as an actual rock, he fixes things for you without asking, your son idolizes him, and he has a steady job. How am I doin' so far?"

"Pretty good," Brooke replied.

"Let's see. He respects his mother, you had to tell him to stop calling you ma'am, he's thoughtful and conscientious, and he apologized for the noise from a party he only allowed because he didn't you'd be home."

"Um...yes," Brooke said.

"And you, my dear friend, have chewed him out twice in one weekend?"

"I know. I know. I'm...horrible. But he just surprised so bad I...I just reacted, you know?"

"So it wasn't that you didn't enjoy the kiss, it was more that because he's 19 you felt you had to lose your cool and tell him to go home, huh?" Casey teased.

"He has to hate me now. Or at a minimum he's gotta think I'm psychotic or schizophrenic or...somethin'."

When Casey didn't say anything, when she sat there staring at her friend, Brooke finally said, "What? Why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"Because it's none of my business. That's why."

"No, go ahead. Speak your piece. Tell me what you're thinking," Brooke said earnestly.

"You sure you want to hear it?"

"Yes. I'm sure," Brooke told her. "Or at least I think I am."

"Okay. Here goes," Casey said.

"If everything else was the same, but this...Dalton guy...was 30 or even 25, you'd have kissed him back, right?"

"No. I...I don't...well, maybe. I'm not really sure," Brooke replied.

"No, you're sure. You just don't want to admit it."

"Okay, let's say you're right. The truth is, he is 19."

"So?" Casey said.

"So? How can you say 'so'? He's only been out of high school for a few months!"

"Didn't you say he spent three years in an apprentice program starting at 16?"

"Well, yes."

"How many other guys do you, of any age, who've done anything like that? I'll answer for you. None. So he's got focus and 'stick-to-it-ness'. That's not in doubt. He's single but doesn't sit around drinking beer all day, either. How many guys do you know like that who aren't the church-goin' type?"

"Well, maybe a few," Brooke said defensively.

"Okay, and how many of them are 'rock-star' handsome?"

Brooke sat there for a few seconds before saying, "Okay. None of them. So?"

"Ha! Now look who's sayin' 'so'?" Casey teased.

"Be serious!" Brooke said.

"I am, but you're not listening."

"I'm listening," Brooke told her.

"But you don't want to hear what I'm sayin'."

"Fine. Go ahead and finish sayin' it."

"Thank you," Casey said in an overly magnanimous way.

"First, set the age thing aside. Now ask yourself, 'Am I attracted to this guy'? You already know the answer is 'yes'. So ask yourself if he has character. You know the answer to that, too. Does he have a good, solid, dependable job? Yes. And I'd call his line of work a career more than just a job. He respects women, he likes your boy, your boy loves him, and he's the kind of guy who takes care of stuff without bein' asked, and he don't drink. If my ex had had half those qualities, we'd still be married. And I'm pretty sure you would be, too."

"I can't argue with any of that except for the 'set his age aside' part."

"And I can't help you with that. Just remember you can date someone—anyone—without committing to anything more than that. You do know that, right?"

"Sure, but I have a son. A son who already thinks the sun rises and sets with Dalton Burke."

"I can't help you with that, either. I know it's dangerous to bring a guy around because our boys could get attached to 'em. But you can't not date or see someone just because Bo might get hurt. And from what I can tell, this Dalton seems mature enough to handle it if you did get a little more serious then called things off."

"Casey? Are you listenin'?" Brooke asked.

"About?"

Brooke sighed loudly then said, "His age! He's 19 years old!"

"Chronologically, yes. But does he have an older soul?"

"An older soul? What in the world does that mean?"

"Does he act 19 or...29? Does he behave like a kid right out of high school or a grown man with ambition and goals? Is he a player or a guy who's family oriented? That's what I mean by an 'older soul'," Casey explained.

Brooke couldn't keep objecting because she was out of objections. She could either let this age difference be a 'show stopper' or set it aside and give him a chance. Then again, what chance did she have after her second 'volcanic eruption' even if she could see Dalton for the 'older soul' inside him?

"It's a moot point," she finally said.

"Why's that?" Casey asked.

"Because I went off on him twice in two days."

"Both of those were misunderstandings. Look. I know you. I know you don't 'go off' on people. You don't blow up or lose your cool. But who wouldn't if they came home after midnight and there's a party going in essentially in your house? And okay, you came on a little too strong when he...misread things. Just tell him you overreacted and you're sorry."

"Easy for you to say," Brooke told her.

Brooke stayed for lunch and dinner then went grocery shopping before going home and prayed the pickup truck wouldn't be in the driveway when she pulled in. She quietly thanked the Good Lord for minor miracles when he wasn't, and she and Bo got everything inside with no sign of her neighbor.

Dalton didn't go home until nearly 10 o'clock, and when he did, he killed the headlights before he turned into the driveway, then unlocked and opened his door as quietly as he could when he went inside. He turned the TV on but set it on mute to avoid any chance of giving Brooke a reason to come bite his head off a third time.

Around midnight he went and laid down but still couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. The fact that it bothered him so much forced him to admit there something more going on than just feeling bad for what he'd done. That he did feel bad was what made him understand why he felt bad. He had feelings for her, and no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he didn't, he knew he did.

Brooke was not only aware he'd come home, she'd sat there in the dark waiting for him. She'd been working up her nerve since she got home, and even more so since putting Bo in bed, to stop Dalton and apologize the moment she saw him.

But when he'd turned his lights out, it was obvious he didn't even want to talk to her let alone listen to her pathetic apology; her second apology since they'd met. So she sat there and did nothing as she watched him walk up the sidewalk then heard his key in the door.